


The Search for Fatima Cristoban (Part 2)

by pallasite



Series: Behind the Gloves [156]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abduction, Backstory, Bad Jokes, Blood, Bloodhounds (Babylon 5), Canon Compliant, Canon Is Really Dark Sometimes, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Humor, Fix-It, Gen, Hate Crimes, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Injury, Kidnapping, Murder, Off-screen Rape, Off-screen Rape of a Minor, On-screen canon death, On-screen implied bondage, On-screen implied torture, Police, Psi Cops, Psi Corps, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Running Away, Sad Ending, Sleepers, Sleepers are abuse, Teenagers, Telepath culture, The Psi Corps tag is mine, Unsuccessful Rescue, Violence, Worldbuilding, canon violence, failure - Freeform, telepaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasite/pseuds/pallasite
Summary: This is a canon story - a telepath teen runs away from school, Sandoval Bey (Psi Cop and professor at the school) goes off to rescue her from human traffickers, and he brings Bester along to observe. But like everything in this section (from Bester's POV), there are important pieces left out, so I'm showing them.Unlike my usual fix-it from 30,000 feet, this is a literalline by linefix-it.Part 1 ishere.The prologue ofBehind the Glovesishere- please read!
Series: Behind the Gloves [156]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/677654
Kudos: 3





	The Search for Fatima Cristoban (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> New to _Behind the Gloves_? What is this series? Where are the acknowledgements, table of contents and universe timelines? See [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184558/chapters/22620590).
> 
> If you like _Behind the Gloves_ and would like to send me an email, I can be reached at counterintuitive at protonmail dot com. Do you have questions? Would you like to tell me what you like about this project? Email me!
> 
> I also have an [ask blog](https://behind-the-gloves.tumblr.com/), a [writing blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pallasite-writes), and a "P3 life" Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/p3-life) with funny anecdotes. :)

Picking up where I [left off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900864)...

1\. Bey and Bester arrive at the hostel where Fatima stayed the night before, and confirm with the landlady that she stayed there. Bey tricks the landlady into revealing information about Fatima's whereabouts, calls for a a team of bloodhounds to meet him at that address, along with an ambulance, and telepathically stuns the landlady before leaving with Bester. (I'll come back to this part later.)

"You'll see why I did it soon enough," Bey said, grimly [in the car]. "Don't worry about her. She'll wake up with a headache and have bad dreams for the next six months. Better than she deserves."

"She works with the underground?"

Bey shook his head. "Most runaways like Ms. Cristoban don't find the underground. They find people like Saskia Grijs."

"Grijs?"

"Yes. That's who our sweet little old landlady referred Ms. Cristoban to."

It's clear Bey recognizes the name, and that's what influenced his decision to act. Bester doesn't understand.

2\. They arrive at the address - an old, three-story apartment building - but the firefight has already begun. A Psi Cop lies dead on the lawn outside the building, and gunshots can be heard from inside. A group of normals has gathered outside.

Bey assumes that the other Psi Cops and bloodhounds have disobeyed his orders not to enter the building till he got there, but he's mistaken - the traffickers in the building saw the Corps arrive and started firing at them from the windows - killing one Psi Cop on the lawn - leaving them no choice but to go in without Bey.

This building isn't just some place where they're holding Fatima or other teens to be trafficked - it seems that the landlady directed Fatima literally to the "headquarters" of the traffickers' gang.

4\. Bey panics, draws his weapon, jumps from the car and runs into the building, black trenchcoat billowing out behind him, while Bester waits in the car, not having been told what to do. He decides after a few moments that since Bey never told him _not_ to go in, he's going to follow Bey.

He exits the car, takes the PPG from the dead Psi Cop's hand (noting that the man had died shooting), and enters the building. He follows the sound of gunshots - and trail of bodies, two normals - up to the third floor. He thumbs the PPG on - naturally, it's charged. He arrives at the door to a darkened room, an "office" of sorts, and finds a PPG in his face - and it's only Bey's quick reflexes that stop the bloodhound from shooting Bester in the head. He sends a strong telepathic command to the hound to STOP! while shouting, "Don't! He's with me!"

"Didn't I tell you to stay in the car?!" shouts Bey, before adding, "I guess I didn't, did I. Very well."

Bester sees that five other Psi Cops have taken up positions in the room. Everyone who had been shooting at them is dead - the floor is covered with bodies, maybe fifteen, all but one barehanded.

\---

Text in red is inserted by me. Text in black is the original.

( _Deadly Relations_ , p. 103-105)

"Search the whole thing," Bey snapped. "Rip up what you have to. Where is the girl?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkened room, Al realized that Bey was speaking to a woman, thirtyish. Her platinum hair shone against her dark brown business suit - now splattered in blood.

_Saskia Grijs_ , Al realized, recognizing her immediately from the impression in Bey's mind, during their conversation in the car. This was the woman who Ms. Lyster had sent Fatima to find, to inquire about "a job."

"I want my lawyer," she said, defiantly.

Bey's expression didn't change, but hers did. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her back arched, hands spasming. She made a sort of clucking sound and fell wetly to the hardwood floor.

He nodded. "Three of you come with me. Al, ~~I thought I told you-~~ " He paused for an instant, considering. " ~~No, I guess I didn't, did I? My mistake~~. It'll be safer with us. Come along ~~then~~." He broke into a trot.

They wound up another tight corridor, old wood, peeling paint. Their boots made loud thuds on the worn planks, almost as loud as Al's heart pounded as he ran, keeping up the rear. Oddly enough, the air had a strange, antiseptic smell.

Bey approached a door and motioned.

One of the hounds nodded back. _Two occupants, the john and the girl. He's unarmed._

"Go." Bey pointed to the door.

Two of the hounds kicked it in. It crumpled as easily as Ms. Grijs had.

_They knew that without line of sight?_ Al wondered, impressed. He'd heard that hounds were trained to do such things, but seeing it himself was far more impressive.

"Hey!" came a shout from inside.

The room was small, and even dimmer than the "office" had been, the windows darkened by heavy curtains. Weapons drawn, the two hounds entered the room first, while Bey stepped in and flipped on the light.

That's when Al saw - and smelled - the full horror of it.

The man inside was large, broad-shouldered, with aquiline features. He was just putting on a white shirt. His bottom half was soaked in blood. The rest of his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. "Listen, I paid good-" Then he saw who they were. PPGs whined.

"No," Bey commanded. "I want this one to go to trial. Take photographs."

The girl lay on the far end of the room, naked, tied spread-eagle to the four posts of an ancient bed, lashed and sliced like so much raw meat. She was barely conscious. Had they arrived a moment later, Al realized, the hounds wouldn't have been able to feel her at all.

Seeing Fatima, one of the hounds snapped. "Oh, fuck no!" he shouted, and disobeying orders, he ~~walked over to~~ jumped the man and kicked him hard in the crotch with his heavy boot.

"Take that, you motherfucking mundane scum!" he screamed. When [the john] doubled, he slammed the butt of his PPG into the base of his skull. The fellow went down, groaning.

Bey ignored all of that and went to the bed. ~~That was where Cristoban was.~~ Al followed, almost unaware that he was doing so. There was blood everywhere. He noted, dully, that it had beaded on the sheets rather than soaking in, as if the sheets had been made with - this - in mind.

She was still alive, barely ~~tied spread-eagle. Naked~~. One eye was swollen shut, and her face was battered beyond recognition. Her nose was smashed in, now no more than a bloody pulp of cartilage and bone. Her teeth had been beaten - or pulled - out, and she struggled to draw breath. Blood dribbled from her mouth.

Al fought down waves of nausea.

The girl's mind, too, was changed. Al noticed empty syringes lying on the floor around the bed. Sleepers, he realized. Even a P5 could make a mess of a normal... they'd drugged her so they could do - this - to her.

_Help me..._ she thought weakly, seeing Bey's uniform and MetaPol badge.

Bey cut the bonds with a small knife. Sirens wailed outside.

"The ambulance just arrived, sir," one of the bloodhounds said, stepping in from the doorway.

"Tell them to hurry."

Al could feel what all the others already knew - that mundane paramedics always took longer to show up when the Corps called. Bey had given the order back at the hostel, and the medics had just arrived.

_Am I - I'm in trouble?_

"Don't worry about it," Bey said, softly. "Don't worry about anything. Just hang on, okay?"

_I just didn't want - I wanted it to be like it was..._

"It will be. Just like it was. We've called your parents. They're coming to get you."

_Really?_

"Really."

And then she wasn't there anymore.

Bey bowed his head, then straightened and stood. He looked terrible, like an angry god, a single tear trickling down one cheek.

 _God damn them. Damn them to hell!_ Al suddenly caught, from Bey. It had a strange subtext, almost as if he weren't talking about the criminals who had raped and murdered Cristoban at all, as if he meant-

But that was impossible.

Al watched silently, in shock, as paramedics tried to revive Fatima, but at last gave up. The john was handcuffed and dragged out, and suddenly the whole scene became a chaotic beehive of activity. Psi Cops photographed and documented every inch of the room, and searched the rest of the building for evidence. Fighting down the urge to vomit, Al watched the adults working frantically around him.

At last Bey looked up, remembering Al was there.

His expression softened. "Come on, Mr. Bester," he said, softly. "It's time ~~we left, you and I~~ you went back to base." He looked at one of the hounds, who silently nodded back, glad to have something to do.

Bey returned to his conversation with another Psi Cop, someone senior from the local office. Al glanced back at Fatima's body, committing the whole scene to memory. At last he turned and followed the bloodhound outside, into the open air and fading sun, to a waiting car.

***

"Why?"

It was the only question Al could think of to ask, now that the two were finally alone. Bey swirled his coffee and gazed out at the creamy morning light on the canal. Al had spent the night in a cot in the barracks of the local MetaPol station – just like junior Psi Cop – while had Bey worked all night. Bey looked terrible – exhausted and ragged. Al knew the older man felt even worse than he looked.

Outside, a paddleboat with a young couple in bright yellow shirts disturbed a family of ducks. A third-story window opened, and a beautiful girl with long, white hair leaned out to enjoy the hint of breeze.

Bey didn't answer, aloud or in thought. He took a long sip of his coffee.

"I'm sorry, sir," Al said, sipping his own coffee.

"What are you sorry about, Mr. Bester? You didn't cause any of this."

"I know it upsets you when someone gets killed."

Bey seemed to consider that for a long while, as Amsterdam quickened, and the streets began filling with men and women in business suits, the fronts of restaurants and shops rolling up. The older man's eyes took all of that in, and his face was placid, but Al was certain that if he dared to scan him, he would hear Stravinsky playing.

"A few more minutes... a few more minutes and maybe we could have saved her..." Bey's voice trailed off. "Young telepaths fetch high prices on the black market. When they run away from school, sometimes we can find them alive, like we found you." Al winced inside. _But sometimes it's too late_ , the older man 'cast darkly, sipping his bitter coffee. "And when they get picked up by criminals before the Corps has them registered..." His voice trailed off again. "That's Saskia Grijs' business, what you saw there. Human trafficking. Teeps bring in the most profit."

"I didn't know this kind of thing still happened, sir, here on Earth."

Bey looked at him with dark cynicism. "There's a lot they don't teach you in school, Mr. Bester. You may not believe me, but you've lived a very sheltered life."

“But you've got them now, all the bad guys. They won't be able to hurt any more telepaths."

Bey said nothing for a long while.

"A fellow goes out to the country one day," Bey began, "and he stops in at this farm. He's talking to the farmer, when he notices this pig with three peg legs. Three wooden legs and one real one. He asks the farmer about it.

"'Let me tell you about this pig,' the farmer says. 'This is some pig. This pig saved my life once. The house was on fire, and this pig charged right in, dragged the wife and me out.'

"'That's pretty amazing,' the fellow said.

"'That's not all. This pig can do calculus and all kinds of mathematical whatnot. Why, some say he's even solved Fermat's last theorem.'

"'Seems I read that in the papers a few years ago,' the city fellow said.

"'Yep. Reporters came out for that one. Also, this pig can play the piano – he prefers Chopin. He really is some pig.'

"'Well, I have to agree,' the city fellow replied, 'but what happened to his legs?'

"'Well,' says the farmer, 'when you've got a pig this special, you don't want to eat him all at once.'"

Al blinked, felt his lips lift up involuntarily.

"Yes, it was a joke, Mr. Bester," Bey replied. "You are permitted to laugh."

"Yes, sir. It was an awful joke, if I may say so, sir."

"Mr. Bester, somehow I don't think of you as a connoisseur of humor, so I will take that as a compliment. Cultivate a sense of humor, Mr. Bester. You will need it to survive. And if you use it correctly, you might even be able to convince mundanes that you are almost Human." He finished off his coffee.

A group of patrons entered the cafe - university students, Al guessed, or perhaps a little younger. They instantly spotted the two telepaths - Al in his academy clothes, and Bey in his MetaPol uniform. An aging, weary, avenging angel in the corner.

"Look, a Psi Cop," Al heard one of them say to her companions, pointing. "Worst day of my life."

Al shot the normal girl a dangerous look. Worst day of _her_ miserable little life?

_Ignore them_ , Bey 'cast. _They're always like that._

Al could tell he meant more than those few students in particular. "Is it true," he asked, "that the student handbook was written by mundanes? My cadremate, Brett, said that–"

Bey nodded, slowly. "It all was, Mr. Bester. It all was."

Al felt lightheaded. He waited for Bey to stand and pay the bill.

"What do we do now, sir?" Al meant more than the present circumstances, but Bey wasn’t up for that discussion.

"I'll have to go to the arraignment this afternoon. I was thinking of sending you back to Geneva. You belong in school. The real world can wait for you a little longer."

"If I'm in the way, I understand."

"On the other hand, I have most of the day free, so perhaps we might take in a few museums – there is a very nice modern art museum here, you know. We can eat some frites and mayonnaise, wander along the waterfront, check out what was the red-light district, before the neo-Lutheran purge last century. Beautiful buildings that have seen centuries of the best and worst that Humans can do. We can remind ourselves that we are still alive, and that that is a fine thing indeed. What do you say, Mr. Bester?"

Al thought about all the studying he had backed up because of this trip. For once, he didn't care.

"That sounds fine to me, sir."


End file.
